


Wishful Thinking

by MadMissMim



Series: Full Circle [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Childhood Friends Run Amoc, Daddy Issues, Demons, F/M, Half-demons, Magic, Mentions of Torture and Child Murder, Violence, evil exes, gummy bears, past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 11:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10990368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMissMim/pseuds/MadMissMim
Summary: P.I. and card-carrying member of the supernatural community, Caleb Hill, had been wishing for an end to his business' dry spell for a long time, but he should have known that, in this world, it's best to be careful what you wish for . . . you usually get more than you bargained for.





	Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> And here at last is the third installment. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed these characters until I started reading back through these stories. Some characters are just more fun to write than others. Who knows, maybe I'll finally get off my ass and finish the 5th and 6th stories. Anything's possible . . .

      There’s an old saying, “Be careful what you wish for.” I tend to agree with this advice. Wishes can be very dangerous things, especially when they come true. How many times a day have we wished a particular someone would just go away, or perhaps just die? How many times have we wished we were the only ones left in the world and everyone else would just go away? How many times have we wished for more money, more sex, or just plain _more_? Sure, these are just idle wishes whispering through our consciousness for the briefest moment only to vanish again like a bursting soap bubble, but what if these wishes came true? That’s when we’d discover the downside like some clichéd hero or heroine in a Disney movie. In order to attain the things we want in life we must make sacrifices, struggle, and fight for them. It’s the fighting and sacrifices that make the things we want seem worth having, or at least to tire us out so badly we hardly notice the downside.

      My wish was a simple one. My detective agency, such as it is, had hit a bit of a dry spell. No big deal, really. It wouldn’t be the first time. After all, I’m a bit picky about my clients. I only take cases involving the supernatural. As I once told my girlfriend, my background means that I’m uniquely qualified to handle that sort of case. In other words, I’m an active “card-carrying” member of the supernatural community. How do you qualify to be a member of the aforementioned community? Easy. Either you have to have spooky powers or spooky parents. I’ve got a few spooky powers to call my own, and a plethora of spooky knowledge and even spookier toys. However, that isn’t how I earned my stripes. No, it’s actually my dad’s fault. Dad’s a demon, you see, and being half-demon automatically buys me a membership in the Spooky Weirdoes Club. Lucky me, right? As if just being a supernatural detective wasn’t hard enough on the social life.

      I suppose, even without my little topic side-trip, it’s easy to guess what I had been wishing for . . . that’s right, I wanted more clients. I had no money left to pay the bills, I was on the verge of being evicted from the office, and my goddess of a secretary Charlie hadn’t been paid in three weeks. Wondrous creature that she is, my dear Charlie stayed despite the financial downturn. Charlie Cavanaugh is nothing if not indomitable and loyal as the day is long – plus she types really, really fast. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Well, to make a long story short, my wish was granted. Some benevolent deity saw fit to throw some business my way at last.

      That was last month. Since then I’ve been swamped. I don’t usually like taking more than one case at a time, but there hasn’t been a lot of choice in the matter. I can’t exactly turn my back on people in danger. It goes against my superhero-like code of ethics. It’s not the first time my ethics have almost been the death of me. This is just the first time that the death would be caused by overwork. Just today, I exorcised three vengeful spirits this morning, sealed a rampaging banshee during lunch, and had just barely finished turning an imp into pudding – I hate imps. Almost dinner time and _finally_ I got to stumble into my office. I staggered past the outer office with barely a wave in the vague direction of Charlie sitting at her desk. In the back is my private office containing my desk, a small TV, and, most importantly, a couch. As busy as I’ve been lately, I’ve spent more time with that couch than with my girlfriend.

      Speaking of my girlfriend . . .

      “Caleb, get up. I know you’re in there.” It was her, banging on the door. She had that determined knock that’s distinctive to law enforcement, loud and insistent and authoritative. It helped that she _was_ law enforcement. Irony of ironies, my girlfriend is a cop. Officer Jodi Tenan and I haven’t been together long, but seeing us together you’d think we’ve been married for fifty years. There are times when I’d rather face a horde of imps than my girlfriend.

      “There’s nobody in here but us chickens,” I yelled at the door.

      “Then get your feathered ass off the couch and unlock this door before I kick it in. This is important,” persisted Tenan. With a sigh that was almost a growl I forced my tired body up into a somewhat ambulatory position and staggered to the door. I opened it wide, but remained leaning against it. I wasn’t doing it to strike a pose. I was doing it to keep from falling on my nose.

      “You look like crap,” said Tenan. That hadn’t been what she was going to say originally, I could tell. In fact, she seemed a bit surprised that I looked so awful. I wasn’t surprised at all. I’d barely slept all week and I couldn’t remember my last meal. Luckily, she was in uniform so I was willing to forgive her minor rudeness. She looks really hot in uniform. Tenan laid a hand on my cheek and turned my face a little to better catch the light. “Are you all right? Where did the shiner come from?”

      “Remote control,” I replied simply. “That’s all right, you should see the bruise the TV left.”

      “I know you’re super busy right now, and I wasn’t going to get underfoot until things slowed down again. But I’ve got this guy in the car. I practically tripped over him down on Juno Street. I picked him up thinking it was going to be a public drunkenness – you know, toss him in the tank and cut him loose in the morning. But he’s not drunk. He’s exhausted and a bit beat up, but not even a blip on the breathalyzer. I asked him if he had some place I could take him so he could get some rest. He told me to bring him here – to you.”

      Well, that certainly got my attention. I started toward the front door and the parking lot where her car waited. “Hang on!” she called, hurrying to catch up with me. “There’s more. When he said who he was looking for he didn’t use your name, not the one you use anyway. He said he was looking for John McCabe not Caleb Hill.”

      That was definitely an unusual phenomenon. Due to the circumstances of our first meeting, Tenan was one of very few people who know that Caleb Hill isn’t my real name. I took the last name from my last set of foster parents, and Caleb is actually my middle name. I haven’t used the name on my birth certificate since I was fifteen. With most of my family murdered, my last living sister in a loony bin, and my demon father hot on my trail, I figured change was good. I took the same last name as my foster parents and never looked back. With each new set of parents I took a new name. The last set were only around for the last few months before I turned eighteen, but I’ve kept the name ever since. Who knows, maybe I’ll change it again one day just for old times’ sake – but then again, maybe not. I’d hate to have to order new business cards.

      I went out into the parking lot and peeked in through the back window of Tenan’s police cruiser. When I saw who sat there, leaning tiredly against the window, I breathed a long sigh of relief. I rushed to the door and opened it for him. He nearly fell out of the car, but I caught him and held him steady until he found his balance. “Shiro! What are you doing here?”

      “I had to find you,” said the young man softly. Shiro was Japanese, and he looked like something out of one of those Japanese cartoons – handsome, compact but well-muscled, and spiky hair that had been bleached at the tips last time I saw him. I guess he’d matured a bit since then.

      “Let’s get you inside and you can tell me all about it,” I said gently. I helped him out of the car and supported most of his weight until we were in the office. Laying him down on the couch I crouched in front of him, opening his eyes one at a time with my thumb to get a better look at them.

      “Hey, how’d you like it if I poked _you_ in the face?” he asked indignantly.

      “You’d lose digits,” I replied distractedly. “How’d Mr. Nine Lives himself manage to get so beat up?”

      “Looking for you, old son,” he answered, smiling wanly. “I had to find you before the new moon. I wasn’t sure I’d make it in time. But providence sent the lovely lady cop my way and she happened to know you.”

      “Yeah, that’s my girlfriend, you flirt, so behave,” I told him and he grinned. I could hardly blame him for noticing how she looked – to put it bluntly, she’s a hottie. She has golden blond hair usually pulled back in a tight bun for work. She’s about medium height with the sort of well-toned build that’s only seen in magazines. With her golden-tan skin and crisp blue eyes she looks like day to my night. And I truly do look like a sliver of walking night – pale as a ghost with black hair and black eyes. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder what she ever saw in me. “Don’t even say it or you’ll be digesting your tongue. As it is, I feel the usual urge to punch you just for having so much good luck all the time. It just isn’t fair to poor little old me who gets all the bad luck. It’s disgusting, I tell you. A bloody biblical tragedy.”

      “You’ve been saying that for years, and you haven’t hit me yet,” countered Shiro with a weak laugh. “Maybe I should try harder to be annoying.”

      “You’re such a twerp,” I said fondly. “So, you and your providence happened across my girlfriend – keep your teeth closed or lose them – and now you’ve found me. What’s the crisis? I mean, it’s been – what? – three years since the last time I heard from you. And it’s been fifteen years since I saw you in person. It must be a pretty horrendous problem to bring you out of the woodwork.”

      “It’s really bad this time, John,” said Shiro earnestly. “How’d _you_ get so beat up?” he asked, his expression changing as he finally opened his eyes fully.

      “Funny story, that,” I said sheepishly. It was actually a little embarrassing and I wasn’t anxious to share it with anybody, least of all Shiro “Cat” Nagisana. “It’s nothing to worry about since I still won in the end.”

      “You always do, you stubborn bastard,” said Shiro, grinning. “Well, anyway, back to the bad stuff. I bet you’ve been awful busy lately, haven’t you?”

      “Not the questions again,” I groaned. I looked back at Tenan who was looking as if she felt a bit left out. “Shiro likes to make you find your own answers. It’s his master’s bad habit passed on like a bad case of crotch crickets.”

      “That’s cold,” said Shiro, wincing.

      “And I’m not apologizing,” I returned petulantly. I was just too tired for maturity. “By the way, Shiro Nagisana, meet Jodi Tenan. I’ve known Shiro since we were both kids. His mentor and my mom were good friends. I stole some of my best tricks from Shiro. He’s got this thing, sort of like a power. He has good luck that just won’t quit. I’ve actually seen somebody that was trying to hit him trip over his own feet and punch himself instead. I’d like to reiterate the utter tragedy of it, as well.”

      “Back to the bad stuff,” repeated Shiro, trying hard not to grin. “There’s this dark aura hovering over the whole city like black fog. It seems to be drawing all the darker creatures and spirits to it like a lodestone. I’ve never seen anything like it. Once you’re here, you can’t sense it at all – sort of like not seeing the forest for the trees. Like I said, you’ve been busy lately haven’t you?”

      “Too busy,” I said, plopping down on the floor then curling my legs to sit Indian style. I like being seated when I contemplate. “The increase in business began a month ago just after my mini-hiatus – the first day after the last new moon. Do you think this aura could have been caused by some sort of dark ritual, like a sacrifice or a gateway spell?”

      “Something this big?” asked Shiro quirking one eyebrow at me. “I seriously doubt it. But given the amount of dark energy flowing into this city just about everybody with a nose for this sort of thing has got their eyes turned right this way. I got worried when I found out that this is where the bad stuff was going down and tried to call you, but I couldn’t get you on the phone. I figured it was the bad mojo sending my luck sideways.”

      “Must be pretty powerful mojo,” I commented while mentally I was flogging my memory for any hints of what could cause such a thing as this “bad mojo” that was wrapped around my city.

      “I tried a few other contacts to see if anybody else had heard from you,” continued Shiro doggedly. “I turned up nothing, until I reached Merry. She told me a few things that really spooked me. I came here as fast as I could.”

      “What did Meredith tell you?” I asked, worried enough to leave off my mental wandering and give Shiro my full attention. Meredith was not just a psychic, she was a true prophet. She could see events of past and future more clearly than any diviner before her. She was my mother’s best friend since they were small children. I grew up with Aunt Meredith reading my sisters’ fortunes with her tarot cards. Aunt Meredith may be well and truly psychic, but she preferred to use the tarot cards to express her visions. She claimed that the cards made it easier to put words to the pictures she saw in her head. She’d read my fortune once, but never again after that and she refused to tell me what she saw. However, she did me one better. She gave me my own deck and taught me the art of reading them. I hadn’t seen her since my mother’s funeral, though she wrote to me on occasion. Aunt Meredith always knows where to find me, no matter where life might take me.

      “She said that if you asked me I shouldn’t tell you. She said that you have to be free to carve your own path because if somebody sets it for you then you won’t survive to see the end of it,” replied Shiro gravely. Yep, that sounded like Aunt Merry all right. “But, although she won’t let me or anybody else tell you what she saw, she’s taken steps to keep you safe.”

      “Suddenly I feel ten again,” I said with a sigh. Aunt Merry was nothing if not high-handed. Then I noticed Shiro’s abruptly rueful expression and got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “What did she do?”

      “She put in some phone calls,” Shiro answered evasively.

      “To who?” I growled softly. I didn’t like where this was going one bit.

      “Um, well . . .”

      Shiro didn’t need to answer. The “who?” answered itself by busting open the front door in a violent gust of wind that shook the inner door on its hinges before dissipating. The wind’s scream was then replaced by a female voice so deep and loud it could almost be mistaken for a male’s. “Jonathan Caleb McCabe! Get your ass out here right this second!”

      “Abigail,” Shiro and I said at the same time, both with the same tone of fear.

      “Everybody, get behind something solid,” I whispered. Raising my voice, I called to Abigail, hoping I sounded steadier than I felt. “You know, you could knock like normal people. I might even have answered.”

      Tenan was already crouching behind the desk when the second door burst open. I was hiding behind a hastily constructed shield made of pure energy straight from my guts. It wasn’t a stable shield, by any means, but it was enough to hide me from the direct blast. However, to my chagrin, the shield couldn’t keep me glued to the floor. Although the wind didn’t touch me, it hit the shield like a wrecking ball. I was braced for it, but I still managed to slide back a few feet right into the wall. The impact hurt, but not as much as it would have if I hadn’t shielded. And with the wall at my back I was able to steady my stance enough to keep the wind from crushing me with my own shield.

      “Fifteen years!” shrieked Abigail as she stepped past the wreckage of splintered wood and broken glass that had once been my door. Abigail looked much as she always had, her flaming red hair a beacon and a warning of the accompanying temper. The spray of freckles across her cheeks was a misleading indication of cuteness. The truth of the matter was that there was nothing cute about Abby. She was beautiful in the way that tornadoes were beautiful . . . right before they sucked you in and pulverized you. “Fifteen years I haven’t heard from you! I had to get a call from Aunt Meredith to even find out what city you live in! Then I had to track Cat in order to find you because you were hiding like a coward behind too many damned wards!”

      “ _You_ broke up with _me_ , you crazy witch,” I panted at her. We’d just been a couple of teenagers, both of us all but circus freaks and desperate for companionship. Abigail had always had a volatile temper. In one of her many fits of pique she got annoyed with me and told me to take a hike in no uncertain terms. A week later my family was killed and we never spoke again after that. She didn’t even show up for the funeral. I’m not bitter about that – much – but, right at that moment, I was definitely not in the mood to be blamed for something that was, once again, entirely her fault. “And as I remember, you couldn’t even be bothered to show for the funeral _or_ to visit me in the hospital. Cat showed, and he had to fly in from California. You’re the one who broke off contact, not me. And now you’re stupid tantrum has destroyed my office. The next words out of your mouth had better be ‘I’ll pay for damages’ or I swear I’m going to put you through the ceiling!”

      It didn’t sound like a very intimidating threat to anybody else, but Abby and Shiro knew how dire it was. In one of our more spectacular fights, she’d pushed me too far. I barely managed not to hit her. Instead I rampaged around the barn we were hanging out in at the time. Shiro and Abby both headed for the hills to wait for me to calm down. When they came back it was to discover that it was possible to embed a pitchfork handle-deep into the ceiling. They also found a large hole in the ceiling where an antique plowshare had made a similar skyward journey with a bit more success. What can I say? I’m stronger than I look, and when I’m pissed you can multiply that by ten.

      “It’s just like old times,” said Shiro, cackling to himself. Tenan poked her head up over the desk, one hand reaching for her sidearm.

      “I’m seriously thinking about shooting one of you. Which one it is depends entirely on who says what next,” said Tenan, angry in a way that Abigail, with all her temper, could never touch. Tenan’s temper wasn’t fiery and showy like Abigail’s. Her temper was made of pure ice, a sharp chunk of glacier patiently awaiting collision. She probably wouldn’t shoot me, but she wouldn’t be above throwing her nightstick at me. And while I was dazed, she’d then cheerfully slap some cuffs on Abby. That’s my girlfriend – cold and clever and always thinking on her feet.

      “Sorry,” I mumbled, knowing better than to argue. “Tenan, meet Abigail O’Brien. Abigail, this is Jodi Tenan, my girlfriend for my sins.”

      “Ah, a girl with a gun,” said Abigail with a viciously wry grin. “I’m liking this better and better. It’s a pleasure to meet you, really. I’m sorry for the rude entrance. But there’s just something about this putz that always makes me see red.”

      “That’s putting it lightly,” said Shiro under his breath.

      “Well, I hate to put a damper on this touching reunion and all, but I’m worn to nothing. I need food and bed, and not necessarily in that order,” I said neutrally. “And Shiro looks like he’s been through the wars too. What do you say, Cat? You up for some food and sleep?”

      “Definitely,” replied Shiro feelingly. “We can pick this up in the morning.”

      “No, we can discuss it while you two wusses eat,” said Abby decisively. That was one of those things about Abigail that always got under my nails. She _decided_ things, and no amount of arguing would change her mind. Her decisions were often based on her whims or whatever strange notions she’d taken into her head at the time. Rarely did they have basis in fact or reality. Hanging around with her could be compared to being chained to an angry, rampaging bull. You never knew which way you’d get thrown, but it was pretty much a gimme that you wouldn’t like the landing.

      Tenan and Abby headed outside to wait while I got Shiro on his feet. It took a few minutes for Shiro to find his balance and then a little longer after that to put one foot in front of the other. Once outside we made our way to my car only to be stopped by Tenan. “Technically, I’m still in charge of this guy and as long as I’m babysitting him I don’t have to do anything else. So you two can ride with me,” she explained. Shiro and I exchanged a look then we both shrugged philosophically. I could almost see Shiro wondering if he could talk her into running a few traffic lights just for kicks.

      “Don’t even think about it,” I said, cutting off his hopes without compunction. “Riding with Tenan is hair-raising enough.”

      “Ah, you’re no fun,” said Shiro, pouting playfully. I smacked the back of his head and got him moving.

      “If it makes you feel any better you’ll both be riding in the back like a couple of criminals,” teased Tenan and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Not even the boyfriend was allowed to ride in the front of the cruiser. It was just a general rule. And that’s just another reason why I don’t ride with Tenan very often. If she’s got the cruiser, I’d rather take my chances with my own hunk of junk. Of course, there’s also the terrifying fact of Tenan’s driving. She’s bad enough behind the wheel of her personal vehicle. Driving the cruiser, she usually gave land speed records a run for their money.

      Opening the back door, I paused before sliding in. “It always makes me a bit nervous being back here,” I said to her with a wry half-smile. “I wouldn’t put it past you to take me into the station just for giggles.”

      “Nah, I can’t put you behind bars yet. You still have your uses,” she said with a salacious wink.

      “You’re such a lecher,” I said, letting out a long sigh. Tenan laughed and pushed me into the car by my head.

      “Much props for the hot girlfriend,” Shiro whispered to me. All I could do was, once again, let out a long sigh.

      “Hey, I want to be one of the criminals,” said Abby like a pouty child. Tenan laughed and let her into the backseat. Shiro wound up squished in the middle. I felt like I was in seventh grade all over again, with me and all my half-sibs and a few of their friends crammed into a single mini-van. At the time, I figured that being cheek by jowl with a van-load of squealing, giggling grade school girls was probably what being in Hell felt like. Even after all I’ve seen since then, my opinion hasn’t changed much.

      We drove to Jackie’s, my all-time favorite greasy spoon. I love Jackie’s because the menu has the best selection of vegetables of any greasy spoon I’ve ever been to. See, I don’t eat meat, and that somewhat narrows the choices a bit. Jackie’s is also older than dirt, and so has that quaint almost fifties-esque atmosphere to it no matter how many times they update the interior. Besides there’s something to be said for a place with booths plush enough to almost be couches in their own right. However, in all the time that I’ve been frequenting Jackie’s I’ve never known them to have cookies on the menu – and yet that is exactly what I smelled when Tenan let us out of the back of the police cruiser.

      “Wait a minute,” I said out loud. “That’s not cookies.”

      “It’s Cookie,” squealed Abby, pelting across the parking lot to throw herself at a young man with white-blond hair. Like me, he hadn’t aged much in the years since I’d seen him last. He still had that perfect porcelain skin and eyes as blue and bright as a cloudless summer sky.

      “This really is turning into a reunion,” I said to Shiro, and we both grinned. Who wouldn’t? Cookie, or Simon as his mother named him, was just one of those people you couldn’t help but like. The funny thing about it is that Simon is actually my opposite in every way. How we get along so well is a mystery.

      “John,” greeted Simon with a nod and a smile. We’re guys. We don’t hug – we nod.

      “Not for a while now,” I said, and Simon’s smile became a broad grin.

      “So you finally took my advice and ditched the bread and water first name for the much cooler middle name, eh?” he commented, quirking a barely-visible eyebrow at me. “So, what kind of cookie is it today?”

      “Chocolate chip, I think,” I replied. Laughing and patting each other on the back, the two of us entered the diner at the head of the procession.

      Once we were all seated, I introduced Simon to Tenan. She gave him an appraising look then asked the question I knew she’d ask. Frankly, everybody did at some point. “How’d he wind up with a nickname like Cookie?”

      The four of us looked at each other with sheepish smiles then finally I obliged Tenan with an explanation. “We all grew up together, from early childhood until high school. We gave each other nicknames when we were kids. Shiro got the name Cat because he has the devil’s own luck, and all the adults kept saying ‘you must have nine lives’. Abigail we used to call Dorothy because for the longest time she kept saying to call her Gail because she thought it was trendier and more mature. Get it? Dorothy Gail? Well, it was funny at the time. Anyway, Simon is called Cookie because to me he smells like cookies, and I can always tell his moods by what kind of cookie he smells like.”

      “What? You didn’t get a nickname?” asked Tenan, all but daring someone to speak up.

      “Nothing I want repeated,” I said flatly, leveling a glare on each of my old friends in turn. They each reacted as I would have expected. Abby harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. Shiro serenely accepted the rebuke. Simon pretended to innocence, but could do nothing to hide the calculation in his eyes. “So what brought you here, Simon? Did Aunt Merry call you too?”

      “Actually, I was already here when Aunt Merry called,” replied Simon. “I was investigating an intriguing little phenomenon, but it was Aunt Merry’s call that let me know about you.”

      “So now the gang’s all here, how about we get down to telling me why Aunt Merry sent in the reinforcements?” I suggested. Our waitress chose that moment to approach our table. We all ordered coffee, and Shiro and I ordered enough food to feed a small army. As soon as she left, Simon finally answered my question.

      “Remember all those weird rhymes Aunt Merry used to teach us?” he asked, looking to each of us in turn. “What I’ve been able to find out so far reminds me a lot of one of those rhymes. Odd, right?”

      “Especially since most of those rhymes were pretty grisly,” said Abby.

      “Actually,” I said, fortifying myself with a sip of strong coffee before continuing. “I’ve encountered stuff out of Aunt Meredith’s rhymes before.”

      “So have I,” said Shiro with a grim nod.

      “That’s because you two put yourselves out there in the line of fire. You’re in a position to encounter the sort of evil Merry used to warn us about with those rhymes,” said Simon sadly. “But I spend most of my time in a library up in the mountains. You know me. I prefer to keep off the supernatural radar. I only came here for research purposes, and I’m only staying now to help our boy.”

      “Which rhyme do you think this resembles?” asked Shiro.

      “That one with the brothers and the sisters,” he answered and the four freaks at the table all exchanged a nervous glance.

      “How about sharing with the rest of the class?” said Tenan irately.

      “When we were kids, Aunt Merry used to teach us about the things that go bump in the night by making up games and rhymes to help us remember them,” I explained uncomfortably. “The one Simon is referring to is pretty bad, but it’s kind of cryptic. It goes like this:

 

                “ _Big brother, little brother_

_Walking hand in hand_

_Little brother stops_

_And draws a circle in the sand_

_Big sister, little sister_

_Dancing round and round_

_Sisters fly away_

_And leave a feather on the ground_

_Big brother, little brother_

_Call the sisters down_

_The sisters cry and cry_

_But they never make a sound_

_Big sister, little sister_

_Gazing at the sky_

_They can’t return until_

_They look the devil in the eye_.”

      “You’re right. I don’t get it,” said Tenan flatly.

      “It refers to a ritual that can open what’s called a soul gate. This soul gate reaches straight through to a demonic realm and allows one demonic spirit to enter our world. It’s different from the usual gateway spell in that gateways don’t have the sort of umph required to allow anything too terribly strong through. The worst I’ve seen is one that called a minor demon that was all brawn and no brains. The soul gate, however, can let through more serious contenders – like the demonic equivalent of a planet-destroying asteroid sort of powerful.” I stopped as our waitress approached with our food and refills on our coffee. Once she was gone again Simon picked up the explanation to allow me to eat.

      “The ritual to create a soul gate is complicated and requires a lot of power. It also requires human sacrifice, two innocent girls not yet into puberty. Once the girls’ blood is spilled on the circle, their souls are bound to it and, with them, their access to the other realms.”

      “You see, the newly dead have access to any and all plains of existence. The spirit of a true innocent is infinitely more powerful than your usual freshly released soul,” I added then returned my concentration to my meal.

      “You mean some nut job has already killed two little girls?” asked Tenan, her eyes flashing with fury.

      “Yes,” answered Simon gravely. “They’re already in the morgue. I’ve seen them myself. But wait, it gets worse.”

      “As if two dead children aren’t bad enough,” growled Tenan.

      “Well, in order to go through specifically to the darker realms you need a lot of dark energy. The other reason why the girls have to be innocent and young is because a horrible death like that is a magnet for evil. If the site of their murder isn’t cleaned up and the binding dissipated, those deaths will draw greater and greater numbers of evil beings. The energy of all those evil things is then siphoned off and fed into the circle. It takes about a month to draw enough to complete the ritual,” said Simon. He stopped then and swung his crystalline gaze to me, the steady stare making my hackles rise. “The last hitch in the evil plan is that they need a vessel for the coming demonic spirit. It has to be someone already attuned to the darker realms. It also has to be someone powerful in their own right or the vessel would burn out in a matter of hours.”

      “Wait a minute, what are you saying?” I asked uneasily. Four sets of eyes turned to me with varying degrees of dismay. “No way, you can’t be serious.”

      “Like a heart attack,” said Simon. “Even now, they’ve started to prime you for it. I can smell the brimstone son. Pretty soon you’ll start finding it harder and harder to keep control. Next thing you know you’ll be nothing but a dog on a leash, and they’ll drag you right to them to become a meat puppet for their boss.”

      “But I would’ve noticed something like that. I know I would,” I said, beyond horrified by the prospect.

      “No, old son, you wouldn’t,” said Simon flatly. “That’s why we’re here. To watch your back and keep you out of their hands, but also to make sure you don’t do anything regrettably messy in the meantime.”

      “Why always me?” I groaned to no one in particular.

      “What can we do to stop this?” asked Shiro.

      “First off, we have to find that circle and clean up the site,” said Simon, and we all nodded. It sounded easy enough – but nothing is ever as easy as it sounds. “Once the circle is gone it should be simple enough to dissipate the dark energy, but whatever we don’t get to in time is going to go straight through our good buddy. In the end, it’s probably still going to come to a fight.”

      “Oh joy,” I said caustically. “This just gets better and better. All right children, we’re not going to get anything more done tonight. That much is obvious. Shiro and I are both on our last legs. We can regroup in the morning and start our search.”

      “Are you sure you’re up for daylight escapades?” asked Simon, leveling a measuring stare on me.

      “I have to be,” I said with a shrug.

      The next morning, I thoroughly regretted my decision. Daylight and I don’t get along at the best of my times. Some quirk of the whole half-demon thing makes me very sensitive to light, and sunlight is like my kryptonite. It gives me a vicious headache and sometimes it can seriously scorch my skin – we’re talking serious sizzling here, complete with blisters and smoke. I take precautions when I go out during the day. No matter how hot it is I always wear a hooded sweater under my leather jacket, leather gloves for my hands and sunglasses so dark they’d make anyone from the Matrix drool all over themselves. Usually these precautions are more than enough to mitigate the worst effects and they aren’t always necessary. This particular morning was anything but usual, and the piercing rays of summer sun had my head screaming blue murder at me. It was enough to make me _very_ cranky.

      “Morning darling,” said Tenan, keeping her voice low. She gave me a kiss on my hooded head and opened the passenger door of her car for me. “Where are we meeting with the rest of the gang?”

      “Office,” I replied shortly.

      As soon as I was safely hidden away in the dark, artificially cool interior of my office I ditched both jackets as well as the gloves and took a heaping handful of aspirin. “Morning boss,” said Charlie from behind her computer. “You’ve already got like twenty calls. I told them you wouldn’t be in until at least two, so you got some time. What brings you in so early? Some kind of crisis?”

      “Isn’t it always?” I replied then walked back to my desk, Tenan right on my heels.

      “What happened to the doors, boss?” asked Charlie, poking her head in through the now empty doorway where the door to the back office had once stood.

      “Nothing to worry about, Charlie. I’ve got some friends coming by in a bit. Just let them through,” I informed her and she nodded with a thumbs up.

      “I’ll have a fresh pot of coffee on in a jiff,” she promised, and I silently thanked the heavens for her.

      “I swear, one of these days I’m going to give that girl a raise.”  
      “She certainly deserves it, putting up with you the way she does,” said Tenan, sitting on the corner of my desk.

      “You seem to put up with me just fine and I’m not paying you,” I pointed out.

      “Ah, but you put out for me. I consider that a fair trade,” said Tenan, waggling her eyebrows.

      “You’re such a lecher,” I said affectionately.

      Shiro and Simon arrived together, showing up just in time for the coffee pot to finish brewing its first offering. When Abby showed up to finish off the freak quartet, we put our coffee in travel mugs and girded our loins for battle. All right, maybe not actual battle, but it certainly felt like it as I stumbled through the blinding light and right smack into an open car door. “You’re remarkably coordinated this morning, old son,” said Simon. I glared at him from behind my dark shades, replying with a wordless growl. “Ease up there, bud, you know I’m just teasing.”

      “Get in the car,” I growled.

      Our first stop of the day was the morgue. Simon turned on the charm once we were inside, and before long the guy at the desk would have been willing to give us his first born if we’d asked. Luckily for him, all we wanted was to get a look at those poor girls. Having already seen them once, Simon went unerringly to the correct drawers and pulled them open. The first girl was approximately twelve years old. Soft copper curls seemed to glow next to the unnatural paleness of her face. A single rune had been carved into her forehead, and I could tell by the look of it that it had been done while she was still alive. Simon pulled the sheet down a little bit further and revealed the runes carved into her torso as well. They formed two circles, one on her belly and one on her chest. Each circle was punctuated with a stab wound at its center, a grisly exclamation point to an already harsh sentence. The second little girl was much the same, and it was plain by the color of their hair and the shape of the little faces that the girls were related – most likely sisters.

      “Come on, old son, it’s time to do your thing,” said Simon, holding out his hand to invite me to look closer. What he meant by “my thing” was that it was time pull out my ace. Along with incredible strength and an allergy to the sun, my less than savory heritage also gave me a few other little treats. Among those is an incredibly powerful sense of smell. This is as much a curse as a blessing most of the time. For instance, it’s great being able to stop and smell the roses from a block away, but it sucks to be standing in a morgue burning my nostrils with the odor of death, decay, blood, and less mentionable bodily fluids. Then, of course, there was that wonderful aroma of formaldehyde. Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed.

      The closer I got to the girls the more that I noticed a new scent. It soon overwhelmed the morgue stench. It was the sulfurous smell of truly dark magic. Most people associate that smell with demons, but that wasn’t strictly the truth. What those people don’t realize is that it isn’t the demons that smell like sulfur, it’s the dark energy they emanate that adds that less-than-spring-fresh scent. Truly evil magic always smells like rotten eggs, the scent mentally associated with sulfur. When I got close to those girls, the reek of rotten eggs was so strong I couldn’t keep from gagging. Whatever else I might have been able to smell on them was completely masked by the smell of the dark magic that had brought about their premature deaths.

      “I think I’m going to be sick,” I mumbled, swallowing convulsively.

      “Yeah, I couldn’t get past the dark magic stink either. I’d hoped you’d have better luck,” said Simon, disappointed.

      “I’ll try again,” I said irately. “But you better have a bucket handy.”

      Simon picked up a nearby wastebasket, just in case, then urged me forward again. I moved in closer, picking up one cold hand, sniffing delicately at the tiny nails. I could smell just the barest hint of something other than rotten eggs. It smelled like blood-soaked soil but also like . . . “Fertilizer, iron rich, the sort used in flower gardens,” I told the others, backing away quickly and seriously contemplating the wastebasket Simon held. “That’s all I could get besides the blood and nastiness.”

      “Try the hair,” suggested Simon thoughtfully. Hair tended to retain incidental smells from the immediate environment, like cigarette smoke or cooking, much better than skin or even clothes.

      I moved in one more time. When I sniffed the copper curls, I caught the faint fragrance of fresh-cut grass and roses. I could also smell the heartbreaking scent of the little girl’s shampoo. It smelled like bubble gum. I wanted to be sick for a whole different reason. I swore to myself at that moment that when I caught the bastards that had killed these girls I was going to make them regret the day their mama spit them out. “They were definitely killed in a garden of some kind. I smell roses and recently mown grass,” I reported.

      “Good boy,” said Shiro, patting me on the head like a faithful mutt and producing a gummy bear from his pocket. I accepted my payment with good grace, snatching it out of his hand and stuffing it in my mouth. It was pure, chewy bliss. “Let’s get out of here and figure out our next step.”

      “You won’t hear me protest,” I said emphatically. Needless to say, I was the first one out the door.

      We went back to my office and I tacked my map of the city onto the bulletin board. “All right, let’s make with the ideas. There are several parks in the area. Of them only a few have flower gardens, but most don’t have much in the way of roses. There’s the Municipal Rose Garden on Ninth St., but it’s also possible that we’re looking for a private garden in somebody’s backyard.”

      “Not very helpful,” muttered Abby. I turned a scowl on her, a snarl rumbling low in my throat.

      “Down boy,” said Shiro, tossing me a gummy bear. I was more than happy to concentrate on chewing the fruit-flavored snack and completely ignore Abigail.

      “What we need are more clues,” said Tenan absently, her gaze dancing over the map.

      “Yay, research,” I said without enthusiasm. I hate research.

      “Now you’re speaking my language,” said Simon with a grin. “How about you let me hit the books, in a manner of speaking? I’ll take a closer look at the spell they’re using. Maybe knowing the parameters will give us a better idea of what they were shopping for in a location and thereby narrow our search. You practical-application-type people can make with the abracadabra and come up with a scrying spell or something.”

      “I might know just the thing,” I said and delved into my trunk of esoteric bric-a-brac.

      I pulled out a roll of red ordinance tape and used it to create a triangle in the middle of my floor. I then placed candles at each point of the triangle and used red powder to draw six runes, three inside and three outside the triangle. When I was done, Shiro, Abby, and I sat down at the three points of the triangle and each of us took up a candle. Simon vacated, heading into the other room to make use of Charlie’s computer. Tenan took a seat on my desk and watched with avid curiosity. I started the chant, and Shiro and Abby both jumped in on the second repetition. At the ninth repetition we lit the candles and at the thirteenth we blew them out and dripped the wax on three of the symbols. Then we had to begin again with new words, once again lighting the candles after repeating the words nine times then blowing them out and dripping the wax after thirteen. Finally it was time for the hard part, focusing the power called up by the chants.

      Spells of this sort are relatively easy in theory. Any Tom, Dick, or Harry could call up the energy with the right words, the right symbols, and the right equipment. However, you have to be born with power to do anything with the energy once it’s raised. The chanting, the candles, they were just the foreplay. The real magic was in the intent. The purpose of a spell is to marry intent to energy – more specifically the right sort of intent to the right sort of energy. Magic can be done the quick and dirty way too, drawing energy straight from yourself or your environment and then focusing it into a specific purpose, but it’s hard on the practitioner and not reliable. No, if you want to do it right you need to know what you’re doing.

      In this case, I needed to connect with the heart of the city itself. To that end I focused on the sights and sounds and smells that defined it. Not just the reek of car exhaust or the noise of the citizenry going about their daily lives. It had to be the sorts of things that made this city unique, the individual life of this particular place in the world that could be found nowhere else. I imagined my favorite park with its war memorial at its center. I pictured the college where students could be seen roaming like ants among anthills in the day and evening. I remembered the smell of the hotdog vendors’ carts migrating from corner to corner in time to the ebb and flow of foot traffic. I pictured Jackie’s with its unmistakable atmosphere and excellent food. I even threw in my favorite bar which always smells like the roasted peanuts they made fresh daily and whose shells always adorned the floor. All of this is what made this city my home.

      When I opened my eyes, I could see it before me, a glowing 3D replica in miniature of the entire city seen from above. Tenan gasped and leaned closer, peering in open wonder at the construct. If she thought _that_ was cool, she would love the next part. All three of us put one hand over the construct and we said in one voice, “Seek.” The spell would seek out something that didn’t belong, and it would take more than a simple tourist to get the spell’s attention. The spell would look for anything that threw the city out of harmony. It took an awfully big jolt to throw a whole city out of whack. The circle we were looking for was just such a jolt and should register.

      Three dots appeared in the construct, dark stains the color of blood. I touched a finger to the first spot and the view zoomed in so that we found ourselves looking at a house on the outskirts of the city. The place was huge and probably worth a cool million easy. The address on the front of the house wasn’t terribly distinct but the house would be hard to miss in any case. Zooming in to the second spot showed us a view of a private park that belonged to the college. I forced the view to get in closer and nearly broke the spell by cheering out loud. There, off to one side of the park was a well-kept rose garden – just what the doctor ordered. Just to be on the safe side I touched the third spot as well.

      The view we saw shocked me. It was my office. The stain there was faint, but it was definitely there. Given what Simon had said, I figured it was safe to assume the source of the stain was me. With an angry swipe, I obliterated the construct then got to my feet. How could this have happened? How could they have known about me in the first place? My unusual heritage wasn’t widely known, even in the supernatural community. Most just knew that I had power and they didn’t bother to ask where it came from as long as I wasn’t using it for nefarious ends. Why had I been singled out to play a part in this morbid melodrama? I also wondered what was happening at that big mansion that could be bad enough to register on the spell construct. There was more going on than we were seeing.

      “Here’s how it’s going to be,” I began, pacing back and forth in front of my desk. “We’ll split up. Shiro, you and Tenan head for that mansion. I don’t know what you’ll find there, but it’s a safe bet you’ll find our murderers. Me, Abby, and Simon, will head out as soon as Simon finds out how to shut this thing down and clean the site. We’ll go to the park because that’s where the gate’s being built.”

      “Who died and made you Nero?” snapped Abby. “I say we do this together or not at all. If something goes wrong, it’s going to take all of our talents to take you down. Simon and I aren’t going to be enough to handle you. Plus, the murderers will come to us as soon as we start shutting down the site. We’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

      “And what happens if while we’re closing the site the killers decide to hightail it?” I shot back. That shut her up. It was a valid point, after all. “You’re right about one thing. They’ll know what we’re doing as soon as we start messing around with the circle.”

      “There’s one more possibility,” said Simon unhappily from the doorway. I got the feeling when he said that that his next words were going to be really upsetting. “It’s possible to accelerate the spell.”

      “What do you mean accelerate?” asked Shiro.

      “Just what it sounds like,” said Simon, plopping down on the couch with a weary sigh. “It means that they already have the energy they need. They’ve been gathering it for a month now. What they were waiting for was our boy here to go over to the dark side. They don’t really have to wait; it’s just easier that way. As soon as they know we’re coming after them, they could trigger the spell, give our boy a case of magical rabies, and follow the channel of his rage right to where they want to go – because we all know where that rage comes from.”

      “Well, Charlie doesn’t, so keep you damn voice down,” I whispered harshly.

      “Wow, somebody’s got his knickers in a twist,” grumbled Abby, put off by my tone.

      “Abby, quit it,” said Simon severely.

      “Quit what?” asked Abby, clueless as usual.

      “You’re being deliberately provoking,” Simon rebuked her.

      “It’s not my fault he’s got supernatural closet issues,” she said petulantly.

      “Back up a minute there femi-nazi,” I said, really getting annoyed. “I’ve got what?”

      “What did you call me?” asked Abby in turn, jumping to her feet and taking up an aggressive stance.

      “You heard me,” I retorted defiantly. “I called you a flannel wearing, bra burning, ball-busting, whip-cracking man hater.”

      I just barely heard Shiro mutter, “Uh-oh.”

      “You prehistoric chauvinistic oedipal-Freudian nightmare!” she shrieked.

      “Oh crap,” breathed Simon. “Um, guys, now’s really not the-- ”

      “Shut up!” we both yelled at him.

      “Why don’t you do us all a favor and get a therapist,” Abby screeched at me.

      “Why don’t you do me a favor and change your Kotex,” I shouted back. Oh yeah, this argument was going nowhere fast. But then, arguments between Abby and I have always been like that.

      “Enough!” roared a really pissed off female, and both of us shut our mouths instantly. “You,” snarled Tenan, jabbing a finger at Abby, “Keep your comments to yourself or so help me I’ll shoot you with my riot gun. And you,” the finger jabbed at me but with a bit less fervor. “You need to calm down sugar. You’re showing.” I looked at her questioningly for a moment but as soon as I got it the bottom dropped out of my anger. I looked to Simon who nodded slowly.

      Sometimes my demon half likes to rear its ugly head and make itself known. The human face is just a mask really, and what it hides is something too distressing to contemplate closely. When the mask wears thin – like when I’m really pissed off or around the time of the new moon – little signs of my inner monster become visible to all and sundry. For starters the black of my eyes will completely fill in the whites, and as it gets worse they start to glow like burning coals. It was a disconcerting effect that was usually only seen in movies.

      My childhood buddies didn’t miss the significance of the change. They knew it meant I was already slipping. I had thought that I was only grumpy because I’m tired and hate being out during the day, but apparently it went deeper than that. I was losing control of my temper. The next step would be violence and after that . . . let’s just say we’d need buckets and lots of bleach to clean up the mess.

      “Okay, let’s stay focused here. We have to take care of this quickly. We haven’t got a lot of time,” I said, subdued. Tenan laid a hand on my shoulder and gave it reassuring squeeze. The smile I gave her was tired and uneasy, but it was the best I could manage. “We have to guarantee that if we throw all of our firepower at the circle the bad guys will be stupid enough to come out and play rather than run for their mommies.”  
      “You know, I think I might just have an idea,” said Simon, all at once brightening – literally. “Here’s what we do . . .” He excitedly outlined his master plan for us and when he was done everyone was nodding – everyone except me.

      “So, what do you think?” Simon asked me.

      “Is it really that bad?” I asked him.

      “Yep, pretty much.”

      “As in, ‘we’re all going to die’ bad?”

      “Sounds about right,” said Shiro.

      “Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?” Simon asked.

      “You got yellow?”

      Simon pulled out a gummy bear and looked at it. “Nope, orange.”

      “It’ll do,” I said with a sigh. Simon tossed me the gummy bear, and I snatched it out of the air and stuffed it in my mouth.

      We waited for nightfall, since at this point I couldn’t bear to be out in the sun for any length of time. When we arrived at the campus it was deserted except for one poky security guard, and we weren’t in the least concerned about him. It didn’t take us long to find the rose garden. It was emanating darkness like a smoke from a fire, and all we had to do was walk until we found the place where the smoke was thickest. A simple masking spell hid the circle from casual observers and groundskeepers, but couldn’t hide it from us. It pulsed in the back of the senses, throbbing with malignant intent, a cankerous sore in an otherwise peaceful area.

      “Are you ready for this, man?” asked Simon uncertainly. “If you’re not sure, it’s not too late to back down.”

      “I don’t know,” I said, glaring at the circle with growing heat. I could still smell the blood and violent death on the air, and it left a sour taste in the back of my throat. This is where the lives of two beautiful little red-haired girls had been stolen, all of their potential snuffed in a single moment. I could just barely make out the wavering forms of their spirits through the haze, both of them screaming silently in terror and torment.

      “Scooby snack?” asked Simon with shaky humor. I wasn’t above accepting an emerald-colored gummy bear. The flavor of it masked the tang of death in my mouth.

      “I’m ready,” I told him.

      Simon and Shiro stood together, the two of them using their powers in tandem to hide everyone but me. I approached the circle, getting as close as I dared, then began an old chant that was meant to release bound spirits. It didn’t do much good, but then again, it was never meant to be the solution. As we’d expected, a pair of visitors showed up to crash the party. They had no way of knowing that I wasn’t alone. They just knew that the man they’d been preying on was in range of the circle and attempting to scrub it clean. By making them think I was there alone, we’d hoped that they’d get overconfident and come down to the circle to finish the spell and bind their demon. They wouldn’t run away. There was no reason to. There was nobody there to stop them but me, and as far as they knew I was already bound to their will.

      As the pair of them rounded the corner of the closest building, I caught their scent and drew back sharply. “Fe, fi, fo fum, I smell the blood of a pair of morons,” I muttered, and I thought I heard a faint giggle from the spot where Simon and the others were hiding. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite pair of piss-ants.”  
      “Now, now, John, no need for name-calling,” said the older of the pair. They were twins, Rodney and Richard Martin. Rodney was the oldest by about an hour. They were petty bullies that I’d thought I’d never see again. This truly was turning into a grade school reunion.

      “How about I just beat you bloody for old times’ sake?” I said amiably. “And our mothers aren’t around to stop me this time. It’s just us.”

      “You haven’t changed a bit,” said Rodney, all polite and friendly-like.

      “You’re just as barbaric as ever,” added Richard in the exact same tone – arguably, the same voice.

      “And you’re still the same all-talk, petty, losers I used to wipe the floor with,” I said, in a mockery of their tone. Sarcasm is another of my many talents, and it’s always been one of my favorites.

      “Well, it seems we’re not the losers this time,” said Richard with a nasty smile.

      “You’re ours,” put in Rodney with great relish. “You’ll be our very own rabid dog on a leash, and you’ll become everything you fear most.”

      “Over your dead bodies,” I growled.

      “Oh no, John, not _our_ dead bodies,” Rodney corrected me.

      “More like the bodies of everyone in the city you want so much to protect,” said Richard.

      The two of them raised their hands toward me, and I fervently hoped that my friends were ready to jump in before it was too late. The circle behind me flared into sulfurous life, sucking up the fog of dark power like a Hoover on steroids. Though the fog was clearing I could feel something happening inside me, like an itch just under the skin. It tingled along my every nerve, becoming painful in an irritating sort of way. I could feel my masks being stripped away a layer at a time, dragging unearthly fury up from the depths of the cage I kept it in. The tingling then became truly painful and I couldn’t hold back a scream, a small corner of my mind terrified by the bestial sound coming out of my throat. I wanted to turn the twins into lunch meat, but try as I might I couldn’t get close to them. Every attempt brought fresh pain. As long as they were in control of my other half, I couldn’t touch them.

      “Ah, now that’s more like it,” said Rodney, watching me like a child that was watching an ant fry under his magnifying glass. “Does it hurt, Johnny?”

      From behind me I heard the word, “Now!” That was what I had been waiting to hear. I gathered what little was left of my tattered reason and forced myself to run toward the sound of Simon’s voice. Simon. My opposite number in every way. The angel to my demon. Simon smiled softly and held out his hand toward me. I had only a moment to think, “This is going to hurt,” before I grasped his hand like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline.

      “Peace, old friend,” said Simon as soon as he had me in his grip. I fell into those blue, blue eyes even as the skin where I touched him began to crackle and smoke. It only hurt for a moment, and after that moment there was only the peace he’d promised. He replaced my masks, his light forcing my inner darkness back into its cage. Once I was reasonably under control again, he dumped me back into consciousness then helped me to my feet. “Let’s finish this,” he said, and this time mine wasn’t the only feral grin.

      Abby, Tenan, and Shiro fought against the twins with everything they had. Abby was calling miniature whirlwinds to toss them around like rag dolls, and everywhere they landed there was Shiro and Tenan to kick them around. However, I didn’t have much time or attention to spare for their struggle. Simon and I had a circle to destroy in a way that only we could.

      Simon opened himself up, stripping away a few of his own masks. Bathed in ethereal light, he reached his hands toward the tormented spirits of the little girls. They reached toward him in turn, but were stopped by the terrible spell still chaining them to the place where they’d died. That’s where I came in. When Simon had calmed me down, he had put my inner monster in its cage but he hadn’t closed the door. I reached for the dark energy that bound the girls and drew it into myself. It was a lot like siphoning gas, with a minute’s effort the energy was soon flowing freely on its own.

      It was agonizing, drawing in that much dark energy. I fed as much as I could to my inner demon until I could keep no more of it. I started to get that horrible after-Thanksgiving-dinner sort of feeling – glutted and sick with it. But I couldn’t stop. I had to put the excess somewhere, and I had to get rid of what I already had before it did permanent damage. I was getting desperate. If I didn’t do something about the overload of energy soon I’d wind up doing exactly what the twins had wanted me to do in the first place. And then epiphany struck. The twins were the key.

      I turned to the embattled twins, the pair of them bloody and all but broken but still fighting. I extended arms made of purest darkness and enclosed the twins in talon tipped hands made of solid shadow. It wasn’t one of my typical abilities, but when you’re pumped full of dark power you can surprise yourself sometimes. I yanked the twins to me and dropped them on the ground at my feet. “Reap what you sow, boys,” I purred to them. “Nobody calls me Johnny.” They opened their mouths to scream, but it was too late. With a hand on each head, I used myself as a conduit and pumped every last drop of dark energy into them. I could see just how excruciating it was – every plan has to have its little perks.

      Rodney and Richard’s faces grew paler, their eyes bleaching out to match the deathly pallor. They were beyond pain and reason as their bodies took in everything I gave them and more. When it was done, the twins fell to the ground bloated and twitching like beached whales. They weren’t dead, but they were probably wishing they were. Humans were never meant to handle so much power, not even a pair of sorcerers like the twins – especially not demonic power. Their minds and bodies just weren’t equipped for it. Well, they’d wanted to be powerful. They’d gotten their wish.

      “Ew,” said Abby, looking down at Rodney and Richard. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer pair.”

      “No kidding,” added Shiro, spitting on them for good measure.

      “Are you all right?” Tenan asked as she approached me.

      “Not really, but I will be,” I told her. Figuring it was safe, she rushed me and wrapped me in a bone-crushing embrace. “Are you all right?”

      “They singed my hair,” she said, looking up at me with an expression of righteous indignation.

      “I thought I smelled burnt hair.” I kissed the top of her head, and she lightly smacked my arm.

      Simon joined us in looking down at the men. “Well, what are we going to do with Rod and Dick?” he asked. “Oh, the girls have passed on to where they belong by the way. All is well again. But I don’t like leaving these two like this.”

      “Scrub them clean then let the police handle them,” suggested Shiro and there were nods all around. It was a good plan. We wanted to see them suffer, but it wasn’t up to us to pass judgment on them. Knowing that is what made us the good guys.

      “And speaking of the authorities, here comes campus security,” said Simon with a frown for Shiro. “You and your luck.”

      Shiro shrugged with an innocent smile then went with Tenan to talk to the security guard. Simon cleaned the energy inside the twins of its darkness then Abby dissipated it into air and earth. When all was said and done, the twins were unconscious and in handcuffs awaiting the police to pick them up. The rest of us went to Jackie’s for a chance to rest and regroup.

      “So,” I said to three of my oldest friends. “Where’s my reward for putting my ass on the line?”

      “Scooby snacks,” said the three of them with matching grins. Three hands shot out, each bearing a gummy bear. I greedily snatched all three and chewed contentedly for a while.

      “All right,” said Tenan, mystified. “What’s with the gummy bears?”

      “Haven’t you guessed yet?” asked Simon with one of his more impish smiles. “Our boy’s old nickname?”

      Tenan covered her mouth, trying hard not to laugh out loud. Yep, she’d guessed it. “That’s right, dearie, super-sniffer here is our very own Scooby,” said Shiro and at that moment I could have cheerfully ripped his tongue out and fed it to him. Unfortunately, I was too distracted by the appearance of another gummy bear to be bothered with vengeance.

      “When we were kids, Aunt Merry decided we needed to have a way to keep him under wraps until he could manage it on his own,” began Simon, tossing me another gummy bear for good measure. “So Aunt Merry and Caleb’s mom got together and put a binding on him. They tied low-level feelings of calm and contentment to a single object. It became like his happy pill, cheap to buy and easy to administer.”

      “Basically, they addicted me to gummy bears,” I told her flatly. “So whenever I refused to do what I was told or was starting to lose my temper or feel cornered, they’d feed me gummy bears to calm me down. Later I figured out how to keep calm on my own.”

      Tenan was laughing openly now, but another gummy bear appeared so I couldn’t bring myself to care. What can I say? I still love my gummy bears. “Suddenly I see a lot more gummy bears in my future,” I said with a long sigh as I watched Tenan fight down her laughter. “I’m not as young as I used to be you know. You’re going to turn me into Shamu with all the candy.”

      “All right, all kidding aside,” said Tenan when she was finally composed. “We did a good thing today. We brought a couple of murderers to justice and helped a pair of little girls into a peaceful life after death. But I get the impression that you guys knew the killers. Who are they?”

      “Rodney and Richard Martin,” said Abigail with a look of distaste. “Our parents made us play together as kids.”

      “They were just bullies then, and the threat of Caleb was enough to keep them in line,” added Shiro. “I can’t say time has improved them much.”

      “Well, where they’re going, they’ll have new friends to make them cry for mommy,” I said with a vicious grin. “I hope they end up with wives named Bubba and Bruno.”

      “That’s just cold,” said Tenan, but she was grinning from ear-to-ear when she said it. “A toast,” she said, raising her coffee cup. “The good guys won again.”

      We all raised our coffee cups in salute, and four old friends said at the same time, “To Scooby and his gang.” We all laughed and clinked our mugs together. I had forgotten how great it could be to not be the only superhero in town. Too bad that with the crisis averted they’d all probably be leaving in the morning.

      “You know, I’ve been thinking,” said Shiro, sipping his coffee before continuing. “There’re still a lot of scary monsters roaming about that got called here while the circle was active. Maybe it’d be a good idea if I stick around until we get them cleared out.”

      “That sounds like more fun than I’ve had in years,” said Abby enthusiastically.

      “I guess the library can live on without me for a while,” added Simon.

      I groaned and covered my face with my hand. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, _Be careful what you wish for._

**Author's Note:**

> I was replying to a comment the other day, and realized I had forgotten all of the righteous rage I had once felt as an under-worshiped administrative professional. I’ve been out of work for a while, so the lapse is understandable. I remember sitting in that ungodly uncomfortable chair answering phone calls from rude, idiotic, or indifferent people all day long all while trying to complete a whole host of deceptively demeaning tasks with the efficiency and aplomb of an artist. I remember wanting to pull a Moses and burst into office buildings shouting, “Let my people go!” However, I’m fairly certain that the lack of immolating shrubbery would hurt my credibility in such a scenario, and the most I would get is chucked into a loony bin (again) or a jail cell. T_T


End file.
